May 30, 2022
Not quite what I planned
But it worked out
"No battle plan survives contact with the enemy."
Helmuth von Moltke, German military strategist
WE'VE ALL BEEN THERE. You make a plan, review and refine it, then put it into action. And then events stubbornly refuse to go according to the plan. How much they deviate, and in what way(s), spells the difference between "Meh, okay", "That was AWESOME", and "Oh my GOD what just happened?"
You could catch COVID, abort your tour, and then get involved in a catastrophic traffic accident as you are driving a rented pickup truck back home. Or, you could find yourself in totally unexpected but entirely congenial circumstances that prompt you to rearrange your upcoming lodging reservations so you have more time to enjoy your new discovery.
Neither of those extremes happened to me today. Instead, as the realization sank in that there was zero realistic chance that I would make it to my intended destination for the day and still be able to function on arrival and, more importantly, for the remaining days of this mini-tour, I chose to accept a gift of chance and pull up ten or twelve miles short of the objective.
The plan had called for me to set off from home between 5 and 5:30, cover 63 miles (including a three mile stretch of 7 to 10 percent grade the entire way), and camp overnight at Greenbrier State Park north of Boonsboro, MD. I began to suspect that was not going to happen sometime after lunch in Point of Rocks MD, when I traded paved roads for the packed dirt and crushed stone of the C&O Canal towpath for an hour or so.
First, I was an hour-plus late getting on the road. Not a huge deal but it wasn't, perhaps, the most auspicious beginning for the longest day of my plan.
The riding went well, happily, no complaints on that score. I stopped when and as I pleased for photos, rest, and to make small adjustments to my setup.
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While at lunch in Point of Rocks, I saw another cyclist come in. He was wearing a full backpack, and had been bike-packing over the holiday weekend. As matters developed he lives and works very close to me. We visited a while then it was time or me to head off.
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Owing to the nice weather and the holiday weekend, traffic on the canal towpath was much busier than usual but in no way a problem. I played leapfrog with a Park Service volunteer for a while, and we chatted about the Bike Patrol. (For a few years I was a member of the Patrol, until life got too busy. I need to get back to that.)
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Somewhere along the way I had begun to notice that there was some slop in the steering, and when I checked I found that the headset had come rather loose. I could still ride but it was worrisome.
Climbing away from the canal as planned, I spotted a large building- a "barn" for a construction outfit- with all its bay doors open. I was confident that they'd have a tool I could use to at least temporarily tighten things up, until I can get to a bike shop and have it done correctly. The fellow was very gracious, and even went so far as to offer me a big set of channel lock pliers in case I needed to repeat the operation. I declined but appreciated the offer.
The afternoon wore on, growing hotter (somewhere in the lower 90s) but mercifully not equally humid. My situation was not helped by the fact that there is exactly zero shade on MD 67, so I was on the broiler. A small roadside farm stand / ice cream dispensary caught my attention, so it was time for two scoops of delicious, rich ice cream.
Traffic wasn't an issue, although once I left the C&O Canal my route was on MD 67, a fairly busy two-lane state highway, but with a 12 foot wide shoulder in excellent condition and free of debris. Basically it was the best bike lane one could ask for.
Continuing my plod north I found that my need for breaks was occurring with increasing frequency, though I tried to limit them. Ride a little, rest a little, repeat. It moves you along but does nothing for making good time.
Knowing that the biggest climb was still ahead of me- right at the end of the day- and seeing that I was only managing to cover about five or six miles each hour, I began to be concerned about my arrival time and what condition I'd be in. About 5:30, and with ten or eleven miles still to ride I passed a fire station, with a pickup truck parked out front. Taking that as a possibility for salvation I pulled in and rang the bell.
When it was answered I explained my situation and asked whether it would be okay for me to pitch my tent out back for the night. Not only was it okay, but I was able to spend the evening hours indoors in the air-conditioned comfort of the ready room before going to sleep outside. Use of the kitchen to cook my dinner was also offered and accepted, along with the shower. Bliss!
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The fireman (also a Keith, as it developed) and I had a nice visit; he's preparing to hike the Appalachian Trail starting in early 2024, which gave us something to talk about. He also described life in "special operations" (search and rescue, hazmat incident response, and the like), which he clearly enjoys and finds rewarding and challenging.
Needless to say, getting to sleep was no problem, and I slept better than I usually do on my first night in the tent. Over time it gets easier, but there's generally a fair amount of turning and rolling over at the outset.
Today's ride: 55 miles (89 km)
Total: 55 miles (89 km)
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Racpat
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